Unwritten Letters
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: (Spoilers enclosed.) How would Vash the Stampede unwind at the end of a stressful day? Well... mayyyybe he might compose letters in his mind, to help him sort through that day's events. If he did, those "unwritten letters" might look something like these. Each is self-contained (thus "complete"). An attempt to blend Manga & Anime. Updates will come until manga's end.
1. Insurance Girls

_I do not own Vash, Rem, Meryl, Milly, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_I imagine Vash would be someone who'd want to re-examine a day's events, and try to learn from any mistakes he made. He's unlikely to think it through in the form of a prayer (and even if he did, that could feel very awkward to non-praying readers), since in Manga he was mostly shown as praying only when someone else was at risk. Vash doesn't consistently have anyone around that he can talk with that honestly. _

_So it occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it. Most such "unwritten" letters are likely to be addressed to Rem. However, if it's about something he thinks another would understand better (or forgive him for more easily) he might address it elsewhere._

_The following will be a growing collection of one-shot introspections by Mr. Vash the Stampede, as he re-examines events of the prior day or days. I will try to follow the chronology as well as possible, and blend in Anime where the Manga is silent (though favoring Manga when ever there's conflicting information). _

_This means that as the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, indicating that time is going forward, there will be spoilers._

_I hope all who read this collection, or any part of it, will enjoy it. _:)

**Insurance Girls**

Dear Rem,

Today was unusual. I'm still not sure if I understand it.

It wasn't so very different when it started out. In fact, was downright ordinary at first. Nothing even slightly remarkable occurred until the bounty hunters shot up the tavern where I had gone, just to get a drink, when the afternoon was well along.

You probably remember how my metabolism works. It's easier for me to drink too much and throw it back up than it is for me to get drunk. However, a tavern is still one of the best places to overhear what's going by on the local grapevine. Sometimes that information can save lives, so it's worth the effort to listen.

I discovered I'd forgotten to reload, after the last time I cleaned my gun, when I tried to fire at them. How foolish of me, and how embarrassing! Thankfully, I'm good at dodging.

I ran for the hills, to draw their attention away from the town where ordinary people lived who couldn't defend themselves. There we played cat and mouse.

That part was essentially routine, and I would have had them all tied up shortly. But then the most astonishing thing I ever recall seeing happen occurred.

There were these two young girls. They rode up to the boss of the bounty hunters, and offered him doughnuts. They called him Vash the Stampede... my name, if you can imagine that!

How did they know my name, or that I like doughnuts, while being able to look straight at me and not know me?

It's so strange.

Then another bounty hunter came, and they all ignored the girls to shoot at each other. I ran alongside the girls on their Thomases for a ways, and helped myself to the doughnuts ... they _had_ said those doughnuts were for me, after all, and by that time I was really hungry... and I asked them why they'd come out there.

Their reply was almost as strange as their presence in that location. They belong to an insurance company, and came to find me to watch me all the time - twenty-four hours a day - to prevent me from doing any damage.

I know I have a terrible reputation. Some of those things... well, truthfully, most of those things... were either done by other people or else happened by chance. I don't argue anymore, since nobody would believe me anyway.

But these girls, they're so very young. They're even younger than you were, all those decades ago when you adopted us and looked after us.

The girls paid me to warn the townsfolk. I didn't, since I knew if I left them alone, they'd get hurt. I was too worried about them to do as they'd asked. Instead, I went back and made sure they could escape safely.

Try to save everybody, isn't that what you taught me? I couldn't leave those poor children to the not-so-tender mercies of those bandits.

I didn't kill anyone, nor did I allow anyone to be killed. Some people did get hurt, though. I couldn't prevent that, and still keep everyone alive.

I hope you'd not be too disappointed in my efforts today.

Aside from being more careful to remember to reload, anytime I empty my gun, I cannot think of any lesson that I should have learned today. I hope I didn't miss anything important.

I'll try to stay away from the girls, since I don't want them to get hurt from finding me. It still seems strange, though, that anyone a sixth of my age ... or possibly less... would be sent to keep me out of trouble.

I need to protect them though, not just worry about them. I think avoiding them might be the best way to do that.

I miss you, Rem.

- Vash


	2. Water

_I do not own Vash, Rem, Meryl, Milly, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Water**

Dear Rem,

Another highly odd set of circumstances has come, and much more quickly after the last than is usual.

I saw an ad in the paper, where someone claimed that he wanted me for his bodyguard. Well, it appeared to be honest work, so I went to see what I could do. It turned out that he wasn't really expecting me, but would hire anyone who was willing to use my name. I was disappointed by that.

However, that strangeness also intrigued me. I wanted to know what was going on, and why he was so afraid for his life in an abandoned town. If he was truly in danger, I wanted to protect him. So I accepted his offer of a job and stayed on with him.

He was a water hoarder. Oh, he rationalized it... publicly, at least... as managing it to prevent its being overused. However, he was really only concerned about the money.

It made my heart ache to think of all the thirsty people he must have turned away, simply because they couldn't afford to pay him. I wanted to help, but I didn't know enough yet to figure out how. Acting impulsively can cause more harm than good.

I didn't want to do the wrong thing, because that would mean more people getting hurt. So I stayed on, partly to do the job of protecting him and partly to learn how I could help both him and those he was hurting.

His guest, Marianne, gave me too measuring a look. So I fell back on my usual trick of pretending to be a harmless fool. She still looked at me in a way that I needed to disarm, so I pretended to be terribly infatuated with her. That worked better, encouraging her to stay more than arm's length away nearly all the time.

I was surprised by how obnoxious I had to be, before she started smelling truly disgusted and annoyed. She must be very lonely. I hope she won't fall prey to anyone with less honorable intentions.

I only wanted to protect her from whatever danger was brewing there. I even went so far as to pretend to peep in at her window, so the drapes would be closed more often against other dangers. I wanted to protect her, just like I want to save everyone.

I never want to make anyone look at me the way you did, Rem. I'm thinking about that day when you were so very sad, when you spoke of Alex. You said you had loved him, but he was dead.

Unless I love someone at least that much - and that same way - I don't want anyone to fall in love with me. I don't want to cause that kind of pain, because I know how it feels. I learned how much it hurts on the day you died.

Anyway, the next thing that happened was that those little girls who worked for the insurance company showed up. Well, by "little" I mean young. One of them is tiny, though the other is nearly as tall as I am.

That put at least two children who needed my protection into the house, possibly three, if one doesn't count my official employer. I had a feeling that the girls needed more protection than he did. They all look so young and vulnerable, like they need protection. How could I not try to protect them, when they're like that?

From there, things seemed to grow even more confusing. Somehow, it all became disentangled at the end.

The young insurance girls still don't know that I truly belong to my own name. They thought, as my employer did, that I was merely willing to act the part. I'm hoping they won't discover otherwise too soon, if at all.

They're probably safer away from me, though I can't help thinking some company might be pleasant. Of course, that's provided it doesn't last too long. I don't want them to grow fond of me. That could be even more dangerous for them.

They're so young that it's actually a little bit refreshing to be around them. They almost make me feel young again.

Neither of them is mean-spirited, though the smaller one can get almost frighteningly annoyed at times. The other one is sweeter tempered, but possibly not as bright. It can be difficult to tell, sometimes, especially on such short acquaintance.

I know, I shouldn't be so weak. I'm lonely, that's all it is.

But I can imagine what you might say. If I'm imagining you accurately, you're correct. I'll do my best to avoid them and discourage them. I don't want to put such sweet children into harm's way. It would break my heart if anyone was hurt or killed because of me.

I guess the only lesson I can learn from this situation is to avoid letting anyone grow too close to me. I don't want to hurt them, not in body nor in heart. Toward the end, Marianne didn't smell annoyed or disgusted toward me anymore. So I must have done something wrong, if that was wearing off. I'll try to do better next time.

I miss you, Rem.

- Vash


	3. Drunkard

_I do not own Vash, Rem, Meryl, Milly, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Drunkard**

Dear Rem,

This week I met a very sad man.

He was a gunsmith, one of the best. Some people called him "legendary" and "a genius."

Yet a tragedy had driven him to drink. A bank robber, wielding a gun he had made, killed this poor man's wife and daughter. I don't know who was looking after his son, though it's certain the youth wasn't with his father when I visited.

The poor man was too rarely sober to be a good parent at that time, so it's not surprising that his son was elsewhere. Come to think on it, the boy should be in his late teens by now. Perhaps he'd learned enough from his father to set up his own shop. I'll see what I can find out.

I feel so sorry for him. It must hurt him so much to be parted from his family, especially with most of them dead. If I can help him and his son to not be estranged, maybe that will help both of them to heal.

I literally bumped into the father as he came out of a bar, looking for someone to buy him a drink. He tackled me, and wouldn't let me go - even after he threw up on me - until I agreed to buy him a drink.

I'd gone to that town hoping to find him, since my revolver needed a tune-up. It took feeding him a few drinks before I realized I'd found the man I sought. He was so broken; it almost hurt just to look at him. It did hurt to talk with him, because he was hurting so badly.

I drank with him, enough to make myself sick. I can imagine your disapproving look, dear Rem. I couldn't think of any better way to comfort him.

I tried to treat him with respect, since his own hometown had lost respect for him. I tried to meet him where he lived, and, sadly, that was at the bottom of a bottle. I hoped that treating him with respect, and meeting him where he was, would help him to find himself again. I hoped that would help him to heal.

Deep in his cups, he expressed the idea that the only way to avoid hurting others was to do nothing. In his mind, that had become something like equality. Or perhaps it was only his pain speaking. I don't know.

You see, the gun that slew his wife and daughter was one he'd crafted and given away himself. It is possible that fact hurt him as much as losing his family did, that his gift had been so badly misused that it took away two of those he held most dear.

When he passed out, I covered him up so he'd not grow ill from taking a chill. Desert nights can grow very cold, even indoors.

The next morning, when I went out to find an alcohol-free breakfast, a robber came to that town. He claimed to be "Vash the Stampede," which is what most people call me.

Never mind why I'm called that: it's not important. What matters is that this brigand was using my name to frighten the townsfolk into cooperating. He'd even conscripted those two young insurance girls to run the money from the bank into his car.

I'd seen the girls in town the day before, and knew they were still looking for me. So when this robber turned up claiming to be me, I suspect they approached him as they did the last man that they thought might be me. Because of that, their lives were in danger.

I was so worried about them that I had to do something. So I confronted him. A member of his gang said the gang boss was "Vash the Stampede" to my face.

I said the first thing that popped into my mind, which I daresay you'd find highly amusing. I told him I'd heard the real Vash was more handsome. That probably didn't endear me to him, but it may have annoyed him enough that he would make a mistake.

Mistakes from people who want to hurt others can be helpful. They can give me opportunities to protect the innocent. Sometimes they help me protect the ones who make the mistakes, too.

Anyway, I'd left my revolver with the gunsmith and didn't want to reveal my concealed weapon. So I pointed my finger at him from my pocket. I behaved as if that was a gun, which apparently convinced the robbers well enough to make them hesitate.

Then, to my surprise, I discovered that many of the town's folk still had the guns they'd been given by the gunsmith when other bandits had invaded. When I stood up to the robbers, others pulled their guns and stood with me. It was a beautiful moment.

The gunsmith came out of his drunken stupor, and stood against the robbers with the townspeople. The bandits were driven out of town. Nobody got hurt, Rem. I'm still very happy about that. I don't like it when people get hurt.

The gunsmith tuned up my revolver, and said he wasn't going to drink anymore. He even offered to tune up my gun again any time it was needed. I hadn't expected him to be so generous.

I felt good about the way the town began to respect him again. I liked even better how he was beginning to regain respect for himself.

I think I managed everything without the insurance girls learning who I am. At least, I hope I did. I'm really starting to worry about them. They're so determined to find me, and imposters may harm them. I don't want them to be harmed. I want them to thrive.

Unfortunately, the girls also left town today. They are traveling in the same direction as I am. If this continues, they may learn who I am. That may make it more difficult to avoid them.

I don't know if I can protect them adequately if they're close to me when something truly bad happens. Somehow, I seem to be a magnet for bad things. I don't want those children to be hurt when bad situations or misguided violent people come into my life.

I already knew that treating everyone well is always the right thing to do. I saw it work better than usual, when the gunsmith abandoned drunkenness and rediscovered himself. He now says he has better things to do with his time. I was very pleased to see him grow better.

I did leave town in the direction that the bandits took, to make sure they kept going.

I can't think of anything else to tell you about this last week, even if you were here.

I've never forgotten you. I still miss you, Rem. I hope that you and your Alex are together, and happy, wherever you are.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	4. Betrayals

_I do not own Vash, Rem, Meryl, Milly, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Betrayals**

Dear Rem,

I visited a town of betrayals today.

I'd planned to only check on the young insurance girls. If I learned that they were settled in there, I hoped to use the opportunity to get well away from them.

Unfortunately, someone was holding up the saloon. They'd taken hostages, including the insurance girls. I had to do something; I couldn't just walk away and let anyone be hurt needlessly. Especially not those naive young girls. They probably wouldn't even be there, if they were not looking for me. In case you can't tell, I was very worried about them.

So I went in, and did my best to keep the men holding the hostages focusing their ire on me. Thankfully, I heal more quickly than ordinary humans. So I'm not too badly hurt now.

It hurt at the time though, and I still have some scratches and bruises that are not completely healed. I exaggerated my reactions, and whined a lot. It hurt enough that I only had to exaggerate... not invent reactions completely out of thin air. It would have been more fun for me if I _had_ needed to do more acting, with less pain.

The insurance girls were tied up, but appeared more frustrated than hurt. I was so relieved!

I kept trying to untie the girl they had dangling from the ceiling, but she was too closely watched. So I had to pretend... Please, don't hate me for this Rem... I had to pretend I was trying to get a peek up under her skirt. I know that's rude, and mean, and I would never do it just to be a jerk.

If I'd succeeded in quietly untying her ankles, then I might have risked standing to untie her wrists and so on. But that opportunity never came. Ah well, it was worth a try.

At least that behavior also helped to keep the gang beating on me, instead of hurting anyone else. I could see that they were angry, and they needed some outlet for that. Better that they hurt me, than someone else.

As the day wore on, I learned that the men holding up the saloon were not the worst ones in the town. Far from it! The sheriff was utterly corrupt, and broke the bargain that would have allowed a peaceful ending. Instead, he sent in mercenaries with instructions that they could kill anyone except the daughter of the sheriff's boss.

I couldn't let that happen! It would mean that the young insurance girls would die. I _had_ to take action, to protect those girls and the others there.

But I couldn't kill the mercenaries either, though I must admit I thought about it for a minute or two. I kept my promise to you, Rem, and I'm glad I did. How can they learn to love, if they die in hate? I want to help everyone learn the value of love. I want this partly for your sake, Rem, but also partly for their own.

I know that it can be difficult to love everyone. I know how much it hurts when they don't love back. But if I don't practice what I preach, I won't really help anyone. I want to help them, more than I have words to express.

That's why I try so hard to do what's right: so many times, there is no other way to show them how much I love them. I can only try my best to do the right thing for each of them, and hope they understand from that.

The men holding up the bar were angry because the girl's father had betrayed and killed their parents and families. I couldn't blame them for being upset. I know how it feels to lose someone I love, because I still miss you. I could understand why they wanted to do something about it, since I sometimes feel the same way, too.

I managed to protect the one girl who couldn't move, when the bullets began flying. I saw that the other hostages dove behind the counter, and were as safe as possible in that room. The gang members dove there, too.

I reclaimed my revolver, and used it to persuade the mercenaries to stand down. Well, at least, that was my plan. When I didn't shoot, others did. Thankfully, most were shot with a stun gun wielded by one of the young insurance girls. Others were hit by a falling lamp, cleverly shot down by the other insurance girl.

After the mercenaries were driven off, I tried to negotiate for the robbers. I didn't want a trigger-happy sheriff's deputy to shoot one of these men who was already hurting so badly from the death of a loved one. I feared that would only cause more heartache. Two of the hold-up men were already injured.

So an agreement was struck, with my help. The lead robber would release the daughter of the man responsible for his parents' death, in exchange for an opportunity to have a gunfight with her father. I knew he meant to kill that man, though I had pleaded with him not to. Something in his eyes suggested to me that he might not kill the man, after all. Hoping he wouldn't kill, I made the arrangements.

I found myself weeping, first at the thought of someone dying that I could not prevent - then more when I saw that the man was only injured and not killed. I was so relieved, I couldn't help crying.

I hammed it up, though, to maintain the act that I'm a harmless idiot. It keeps people from taking me seriously, and at times permits me to take unobtrusive actions to save lives. I agree with you, Rem, that there is nothing in the universe more precious than a person's life. No matter who the person is, their life is precious to me.

Another betrayal followed. Thankfully, with the help of one of the young insurance girls, I was able to turn the tables and prevent any loss of life. That was such a huge relief!

I left town immediately, hoping to out-distance those young insurance girls. I don't want them to know who I am, or to get hurt from being too near to me. So many bounty hunters are careless about how they shoot; innocent bystanders can be injured or killed by their stray bullets.

Those young girls have shown that they're not entirely incapable of dealing with dangerous situations, which is impressive. But they're still almost children. They should _not_ have to deal with my troubles as well as their own.

Those burdens are heavy enough for me to bear. I don't want to blight their young lives with my troubles. They should have all the joys of their youth, unfettered by worries of someone like me.

I did see one hopeful thing today. The man who killed so many in the past had learned to love his daughter. He'd stopped killing, perhaps in part for her sake.

I also saw a tragic thing. People involved in betrayals tend to keep betraying, until someone or some circumstance stops them.

I'm not sure which one of those is the more important lesson from today's events.

Now I must hurry to another town, and hopefully lose myself there or beyond, before the young insurance girls come around. I'm so worried that they'll get hurt if they get too close to me!

I really should evade them, even though part of me wants to enjoy their companionship for awhile. I must not be selfish, though. They'll be happier without me. If enough time passes without them realizing they've found me, hopefully they will return where they came from. Then they can live full and happy lives, unencumbered by the dangers that attend me.

I will always love you, Rem, and do my best to live in a way that would make you proud.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note**: _This is the last of the four anime episodes that precede the beginning of the manga. Hereafter the letters will be more of a blend, favoring manga anytime there is differing information. _


	5. Bounties

_I do not own Vash, Rem, Meryl, Milly, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Bounties**

Dear Rem,

Today was busier than most.

I was minding my own business, eating pancakes at a café. Suddenly, a handful of bounty hunters burst into the door and started shooting the place up. They were so greedy for the sixty billion double-dollar bounty on my head that they were careless. They failed to count their own bullets.

The poor café owners! I felt so sorry for them. The bounty hunters caused much damage. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. I managed to dodge and hit the floor fast enough to avoid being hurt, too, though I did get tomato all over me... and all over the floor.

The bounty hunters began boasting of how easily they'd killed me, and promising to pay for repairs to the café. This made me glad for the café owners. I made the bounty hunters keep their promise - even though they had not, as they mistakenly thought, successfully shot me.

I had to borrow the toy gun of a local lad, named Tonis. I shot suction-cup darts at their faces, which proved my ability to aim and quickly hit my targets. The bounty hunters wisely decided that they did not want to continue the fight, after all. That was a relief, since I really didn't want to hurt them.

They left behind their guns and all of their clothing... well, all except their under-pants... to pay for the damages. I hadn't wanted to learn that much about my opponents, but there was no help for it. They made the mess, so they should pay to get it cleaned up.

I began to relax, thinking I'd successfully weathered the day's storms.

I think that is today's lesson. I have to remember to always prepare for the worst, even while I hope for the best from others. I remember the part about hoping for them, but I don't always remember to prepare for the worst thoroughly enough. Maybe I hope too hard because I love them and anticipate the good in them. I don't know.

The town was desperate to gain enough double dollars to repair the machinery that tends their plants. They'd had a malfunction that was causing seriously insufficient power. It was draining the plants excessively, because of that inefficiency. With all those factors combined, they were not getting enough power to take care of the town.

Had I known that sooner, I might have been able to slip in at night and make repairs. Unfortunately, the first I knew of it was while looking down the business end of a gun, while the waitress apologized and explained how badly the town needed the money.

They meant to turn me in, dead or alive.

Dead, I could not escape before they collected their bounty.

I spent several hours evading the townsfolk, trying to find an escape route that did not require harming anyone. They even turned a pair of notorious criminals loose against me. Thankfully, I defeated those criminals. Unfortunately, some of the town's women were hurt enough to be knocked out by the criminals. I think they will all recover, though, which is a relief.

Since those criminals also had a bounty on their heads, and the town plants needed help, I insisted that the town take the credit for the capture of the Nebraska father and son duo. That gave them enough money to hire plant engineers to come and repair the machinery so that their plants could function safely, smoothly and efficiently again.

Unfortunately, those young insurance girls were there. They had some good news - I've been declared a "localized natural disaster," so the bounty on my head was repealed. Apparently, someone thinks putting a bounty on me would be the same as putting a bounty on an earthquake.

Whatever their imperfect reasoning, it means there should be fewer hunting me. I hope this means fewer people will get hurt because of me. That would be a huge relief!

The insurance girls, their names are Meryl and Milly. I won't call them that, though. I'll just refer to them as "insurance girls." I cannot permit myself to grow fonder of these two than of others.

Every human on this planet, in a sense, is one of your children. You can no longer care for them, so that task falls to me. I'm doing the very best I can, Rem, to take care of all of them. I want them to feel cared for, because I know how good that feels. You taught me that, and I'm forever grateful.

These children, the insurance girls, they still mean to stay close to me and watch over me all day every day. In their view, I am "still a very dangerous person." Well, they have a point there. However, they think that doing what amounts to baby-sitting will keep me out of trouble.

These poor young girls have absolutely no idea what they would let themselves in for, if they stay that close to me. So I'll play along for a short while, just long enough for them to relax their vigilance. Then I must get away from them, so they don't inherit any of my troubles.

They're no match for ... _him_.

Maybe you would know what to say to him. I don't. Yet I must continue, until I find him. I hope that, by then, I will know what to say or do.

I miss you, Rem.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	6. July

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**July**

Dear Rem,

A terrible thing has been blamed on me. I don't even know if it's my fault, or if it's not.

I can't remember.

There was a city that was called July. It was one of the great cities, among the largest here on No Man's Land. It was reduced to rubble with very few survivors.

Whatever happened, it seems that it happened very quickly. Some speak of magic; others speak of a judgment from God. Still others speak of an attack from the devil.

I remember my childhood, and I remember you. I remember several years of wandering before that, losing my arm, nearly dying, and being found. I remember going back out into the world, and wandering again.

Then I remember waking up among the rubble that had once been the city of July. I remember hurting, feeling dazed. I remember looking for survivors, trying to help them.

It wasn't long before someone pointed a finger at me, and said I had done it. They thought that somehow I had been responsible, and that the city was destroyed by me.

I don't know. If I did this terrible thing, then I deserve all that they want to do to me... and perhaps more.

I sheltered a little girl from the winds in the aftermath of the city's destruction. She was an orphan, one of the few who survived. She grew up bitter, hating me for what she believed I had done. She became consumed by a desire for vengeance.

I did not recognize her at first. She grew up to be a beautiful woman on the outside. When I first saw her, I sensed something wrong inside of her. Her smell was off: she was angry, even when she was acting flirtatious.

I behaved more foolishly than usual, pretending infatuation to stay close to her. She had the feel of an explosive, primed and ready to go off. I couldn't help her or anyone else if I was too far away when something happened. So, as usual, I made a fool of myself to protect others.

Additionally, she claimed to be a Plant Engineer. I needed to do something to protect my sisters, as well as the ordinary humans. I know you would understand that, Rem.

She hired me to be her bodyguard, though it was everyone else I ended up guarding.

She wanted me dead, because of July. She would have destroyed the whole town, just to destroy me. Seeing that, it made me so sad. It was heartbreaking that one so beautiful outside should permit such ugliness to grow inside of her until it nearly consumed her.

I prevented the destruction of the town, and she pushed a gun into my stomach. I did not try to defend myself. I just apologized. I didn't know what else to do. She was in so much pain from clinging too tightly to the past.

Thankfully, my hope for her was not disappointed. She is not a murderer, not at heart. I hope that she can finally begin to heal now.

I don't know if she ever recognized me. I don't know if that had anything to do with her reasons for not shooting me. I hope she simply couldn't pull the trigger because she hadn't grown that cold or hard.

I think today was a good reminder, that hating what happened in the past hurts one's self more than any other. No matter how terrible the past event, clinging to it tightly... nursing that pain, rehearsing that pain, and cursing it... this does not bring healing.

To heal, one must first forgive. I know this, and I know how very difficult it is to do it. It's especially difficult when the thing that must be forgiven still hurts.

I still cannot completely forgive the one who killed you, Rem. I know I should, and I try. I can love him, but I cannot fully forgive him. At least, I cannot forgive him yet.

I must keep trying, so I don't become like the girl I met today. I don't ever want to think it's acceptable to harm others who are innocent, because I feel a need to destroy someone who's guilty. That would make me as guilty as my opponent.

Yet I must find that guilty one, and prevent him from harming more people.

I must always love, and not hate.

I knew you wanted me to love, Rem. At first, I loved them mostly for your sake. I have learned, though, to love all the people here for their own sakes. It has become a way of life for me.

They rarely love me back. Perhaps I don't deserve their love, since I'm only a plant. Perhaps the ones who learn what I am are correct, when they call me a monster. If so, I shall continue to bear the pain of it.

Yet I long for someone to accept me, as you once did.

I miss you, Rem. I know you would have something wise to say about this. I wish I could hear it from you now, like I could when we were together.

I will always love you, Rem.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	7. Steamer Ride

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Steamer Ride**

Dear Rem,

I did it again.

I helped someone, and mistakenly thought I that could trust him because I'd helped him.

Perhaps I really am an idiot, like so many people call me. It's happened so many times. I really should know better, by now. I don't know why I keep hoping that each new person I help will be different from the others who have turned against me in the past.

I also wish it didn't hurt so much every time it happened.

Although, the town I helped recently _did_ eventually come around and start liking me. When they knew I was leaving, they threw a party at one of the saloons. The chatting and dancing and other goofing off was fun, but there were so many toasts that I finally pretended to pass out. I'd hoped to avoid drinking so much that I'd make myself sick again. I was a bit too late on that, but at least I tried.

Then one of the townsmen tried something... unusual. He helped me to a room, and hired two hookers to ... visit me. I rolled onto my stomach as soon as I realized. I just kept pretending that I was passed out, and eventually they left. It was embarrassing.

I can't deny I've been curious about... certain things... but I don't want to learn about them _that_ way! Without love, what would be the point?

Anyhow, as I started to say earlier, I helped someone new. At first, it didn't turn out so well.

He was a young boy, Kaite. He said he'd stowed away on the sand steamer because he was an orphan and his relatives mistreated him. He seemed terrified that he might be sent back to them.

I felt so sad for him; his story touched my heart. I loved him immediately. I took him in, and accepted a security job to get a private room where he could hide. I even bought him some food, since he looked so hungry. I hoped these things would help him to know he is loved. It sounded like he'd had precious little love since his parents died.

The next thing I knew, I was dreaming of you and your favorite song. It was like we were having a picnic in a grassy place. You reminded me how my ticket to the future is always blank. When the dream started fading, I begged you not to go. I cried, because I miss you so much...

I woke up, and he was gone. He'd drugged me: he used something that knocked me out. He must have put it into the milk, since I didn't eat anything else. To his credit, he didn't leave me on the floor. I woke up on the bed. It can't have been easy for a little fellow like him to move me. I'm kinda tall.

When I woke up, the Bad Lad Gang was already in control of the sand steamer.

I had to do something about that. I had accepted the room, on the condition that I would help with security. So I had a responsibility. However, there could be no safety while bandits controlled the sand steamer. And there were so many people on it that needed protection! I had to act, for their sakes, even if I'd never been hired.

I reached the control room just in time - the bandit leader, BDN, was going to shoot the poor boy! I rescued him, but then things got really complicated for a while. We had to jump outside the window, and then get back into the steamer, and then outwit the bandits and get the crew back into control.

It wasn't my best day. Sometimes I think that Death and Poverty like me too much. I was so worried about all the passengers. Those young insurance girls were there, too, because of me.

The girls actually hid among the bandits, disguised like one of them (they wore weird costumes that hid their faces). The girls saved my life, when the bandit leader would have shot me dead. I must find a way to repay them for that kindness, before I escape from them permanently. They deserve that, and more, for helping me.

I didn't kill anyone, but I did have to injure several of the bandits. The boy didn't understand. He thought I should kill them. I tried to explain, but I guess I didn't do that very well. He still yelled at me, that I ought to remember they had betrayed and killed.

I told the boy about you, just a little. I told him you should be remembered, because no human would have survived without your sacrifice. I don't know if he really understood, but at least I tried. I hoped that even if he couldn't love me, perhaps he could love you.

I got hurt, but I will recover. What's another scar, more or less?

The good news is that the boy seems to have decided to try living a better life. I hope he succeeds. He will be happier if he isn't fighting his own conscience. I hope he can find himself again, and grow up better than he would have done among the bandits. I want him to be happy.

I also helped a little sister on the steamer. The bandits had meddled with the systems, and she nearly overloaded. I hope she'll be all right, now.

The boy I helped, he knows your favorite song. He was singing it, after the steamer was safe. I started crying, just from hearing your favorite song, because I miss you so much.

I wish I could be with you again, Rem. I've never really been happy since we were parted.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	8. Geo Plant Land

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Geo Plant Land**

Dear Rem,

Today's insanity started differently from most.

Two ordinary humans, elderly by human standards (though probably only about one-third of my own age), grabbed me and hid behind me this morning. They were nervous about a man across the street, sitting on a large vehicle.

Circumstances proved that they were nervous with good reason. It wasn't long before he fired a gunshot in our direction, claiming his finger had slipped.

A shouting match followed that, but neither of the older folk would come out from behind me or stand proud with their heads held high while they spoke. I tried to encourage them to do that, but neither of them would.

Then the man across the street began to take aim, suggesting an intent to fire without any accidents involved. I quickly pushed the elderly people behind my back. I wanted to protect them, even if it meant I would get hurt. They loved each other and their land so much... how could I not love such loving people?

I was preparing to draw my revolver, when those two young insurance girls knocked me down. I was so focused on the man across the street that I hadn't noticed them behind me.

I must be more careful in the future. Those youngsters can be quick! And, upon occasions (like earlier today), they can be quiet, too.

Milly, the taller, sandy-haired blonde fired her stun gun at the man across the street. I think she had the intensity setting a little too high, because it tipped the vehicle the man sat upon into the building behind it... with enough force to knock down the building. She was charmingly embarrassed by that result, and claimed it was for a good cause.

Meanwhile Meryl, the small, dark-haired spitfire verbally abused me to the elderly couple. She called me a dangerous "broom head."

I can't recall being likened to a cleaning tool before, though I've often been called far worse. However, as you may recall, my hair _is_ approximately straw-colored... and it does tend to stand straight up when it's short enough.

It was almost cute, the way that little girl said those words. She reminded me of dynamite, another explosive that comes in small packages. At the same time, she also reminded me of a toddler who tries to gain attention from the local adult(s) by shouting loudly.

They're both so very young and naive. I really must get away from them quickly, before they land in any further danger because of me. I worry about them.

Anyhow, the man across the street seemed to think the girls were more dangerous than I am. I guess he might think differently if I'd had time to draw, but I wasn't going to argue the point. First, my head was still spinning a little from how hard the girls knocked me down, and second - I might need to surprise him later.

The elderly couple had brunch with us, and asked if they could hire the girls to be their bodyguards. At first, the girls declined... until the offer was extended to me. Then they seemed to think it was better for them to guard the couple than for me to do that.

I went with them to see what it was all about, acting as if I were only curious. Naturally, I was concerned for all of them. I'd need to find a good hiding place from which I could protect them without being chased off... by them, not to mention their opponents.

The girls weren't happy that I came to see where they would be working this evening, but they really couldn't stop me without being excessively rude or without one of them staying behind. They kept telling me not to get involved. I told them I understood, but carefully avoided making any promises against getting involved.

How could I protect these dear ones if I went away? Of _course_ I would get involved, if they needed my protection. I didn't mind helping unobtrusively if it would help them feel better. All that really mattered is that they came through whatever happened unharmed.

It turned out to be a struggle over land blessed by a geo plant. The elderly couple had worked there for twenty years, and made it into a lush, green place. Small wonder that they were reluctant to part with it - especially to someone who wanted it from greed, and who had no idea how to care for such a treasure.

The girls told me to return to the hotel. I went far enough that they were satisfied, and stopped watching. When they looked away, I doubled back. I found a conveniently-located empty barrel, and climbed inside. Then I waited, while my legs cramped, for my assistance to be needed. I hoped that I was just being overly cautious, but my instincts told me it was likely to get dangerous.

My instincts proved correct. The opposing side of the land dispute hired the remaining members of the Nebraska family to assist them.

There was a great deal of yelling, but it didn't get violent except briefly. I fired a shot at a key moment, from my concealed location in the barrel. Thankfully, it worked exactly as it needed to work. I allowed the little spitfire to think she had done it.

This repaid my debt to them for helping me in the sand steamer situation. Now I can elude them with better conscience, since there won't be an unpaid debt between us.

I think the lessons for today were to be more careful what's behind me, and to find a better place of concealment than a barrel if I may need to wait for a long time. My legs are _still_ cramped!

I miss you, Rem. I hope you would be proud of me today.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

Author's note: _This is a place where the chronology of the anime differs from the sequence in which things appear in the manga. As stated previously, I'm trying to blend the two, but will favor the manga when there's a conflict. I'll get to those other anime episodes after the manga introduces Wolfwood._ :)


	9. Enemies

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Enemies**

Dear Rem,

I thought I would have more time. Things had been so peaceful lately... but I was mistaken.

I didn't elude the young insurance girls soon enough.

Enemies came for me today. These were enemies of a caliber far beyond bounty hunters, and well beyond even the best-trained lawmen. They were assassins, paid to attack me.

One could speak into my mind, like _he_ does. That one dared me to draw. I wanted to, but I knew that would only endanger many of the townsfolk who need not be involved. It would also have risked those young insurance girls, who were nearby at the time.

It wasn't worth it, to risk these dear innocents simply because I was angry. So I didn't.

The mind-speaker admitted he works for _him_, and claims that _he_ is still asleep recovering from injuries I inflicted. Regardless of his other claims, I do know that he slew the town shoemaker and left his head on a bench near me. Since he'd gone away before the bag with the head was discovered, I was blamed. The local sheriff put me in jail, and chained my wrists.

The young insurance girls tried to talk the sheriff into releasing me, bless them. Of course, no lawman could allow someone with a reputation like the one that clings to me to walk free. I thanked the girls for the thought, but told them not to trouble themselves.

The other enemy was obviously a pawn, yet still highly capable. He blew his way into the jail, and came after me. I told the insurance girls, who were visiting me at the time, to run. They didn't, and Meryl was hurt. Not too badly, I think, since they followed me later. Still, she was hurt because of me. I cannot forgive myself for that. I should have parted from them sooner.

As soon as it was possible to leave the jail without harming anyone else, I shot the chains holding me and fled. I collected my revolver, and tried to lead my attacker away from the people. It was the best way I could think of to protect them.

Sadly, I failed. I lost my prosthetic arm in that battle, and many innocent townsfolk were slain by him. It hurt to see so many lying there, broken, forever unable to rise. I hurt for the dead, and grew angry at the one who had killed them.

I pursued and caught the man who had wreaked so much havoc, who alone had hurt and killed so many innocent townsfolk. I was so angry! I'm ashamed to admit that I wanted to kill him very badly. I held my gun to his head, and told him to die like all those others he had killed.

Suddenly, I remembered you. I couldn't pull the trigger. I started crying. I still wanted to shoot him, but I didn't do it. I knew that if I did, I would regret it later. Killing anyone would be too much like killing you. I mustn't do that. I cannot allow myself to forget love so easily.

Instead of killing the pawn, I asked about _him_. Unfortunately, this pawn knew nothing. I walked away from him, though I kept my finger on the trigger. If he had attempted to do any further harm, I would have shot him again... to injure, not to kill.

I told the young insurance girls to leave me. I cannot focus on surviving and winning battles like this if I must worry about others being at risk... especially not if some of those others are children that I'm beginning to grow fond of.

I must survive, else I cannot face _him_. Unless I face _him_, I cannot protect anyone from the harm _he_ would do.

These girls, they'd be like your great-grandchildren, Rem. One is very sweet, the other very spunky. Both should have a better and longer life than they would get if they stay near me.

I must get away from them. I will miss them, a little, after that.

But I won't miss them as much as I miss you, Rem. And I'll be comforted by knowing that they are safer away from me.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

**Author's note**: _This is a place where the chronology of the anime differs from the sequence in which things appear in the manga. As stated previously, I'm trying to blend the two, but will favor the manga when there's a conflict. I'll get to those other anime episodes after the manga introduces Wolfwood._ :)


	10. Scars

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Scars**

Dear Rem,

I think today's lesson is that I should lock my hotel room's door.

I was embarrassed today.

Those young insurance girls, those children, they walked into my hotel room without knocking. I'd been washing my hair, so I was only wearing pants and underwear. I didn't have anything on above my waist, except the towel that I was using to dry my hair.

So they saw my scars. Not all of them, since my pants cover some, but enough.

I know that I blushed terribly, because I could feel the heat in my face.

I was surprised that they didn't run away immediately. Their young faces didn't seem to show disgust either, which was the other thing I would have expected. I was so surprised! I hardly knew what to say or do.

Milly, the sweet one, said she hadn't known my left arm was a prosthetic. She seemed almost relieved by that. She said she'd been worried about me.

Meryl, the spunky one, also said I'd worried her. She thought I should give up my gun and run away to live quietly somewhere.

I told her I couldn't do that. I tried to explain, without getting detailed, but ... I was still so embarrassed, and so shocked. My words probably didn't come out quite right.

Their earlier words were still rattling around in my head and my heart. Those kind-hearted children both said they were worried about me... _me_, the monster gunman that everybody hates. The "localized natural disaster" who's such a danger to everyone that they must keep watch on me to prevent me from doing harm. They think they're worried about ... _me_?

I'm still not sure if I really believe it. Their faces looked very sincere when they said those words. I think, at least, that they believed what they said.

I've been alone for so long. I don't really know what to do when someone doesn't leave me at the earliest opportunity. I feel especially lost around these two young girls, at times. I don't want to burden them with my troubles.

I need to leave town, and I hope they won't follow me anymore. If they try, I need to get away from them by whatever means necessary. I don't want to risk their young lives.

They were kind enough to worry about me. If I grow any fonder of them, _he_ may sense it and target them specifically. For their sakes, and perhaps a little for my own, I must get away from them.

And I must do it quickly, even though it tears the heart right out of me.

I pray I will have the courage and strength to do what must be done.

I miss you, Rem. This might not hurt so much if you were still out there, somewhere, loving me. I shall never stop loving you, even if all I have are memories of you.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

Author's note: _This is a place where the chronology of the anime differs from the sequence in which things appear in the manga. As stated previously, I'm trying to blend the two, but will favor the manga when there's a conflict. I'll get to those other anime episodes after the manga introduces Wolfwood._ :)


	11. Hunters and Hunted

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Hunters and Hunted**

Dear Rem,

I left the town where the young insurance girls were.

The Sheriff was glad to see me go, and wasn't shy about saying so. I can't blame him for that. So many people died, just because I was in the town.

I'm so very sorry about that, but I know of no way to fix it. I can't bring them back. I mourn them, as he does, but he doesn't understand that.

All I can do is go away.

At first I thought I'd gotten away clean, without the young insurance girls following. However, it wasn't long before those two kindhearted young girls left town by the same street. I quickened my pace a little, but they ran and caught up.

Unfortunately, they caught up just about the time I ran into more trouble.

Another assassin sent either by _him,_ or else by his mind-speaking servant, was waiting to confront me.

The one I didn't kill, he'd called himself Monev the Gale. Although I didn't kill him, someone else did. I found his body hung on a cross out in the desert. I told the girls to stay back. I didn't want them to suffer nightmares from seeing such a horrible thing.

That cross is where I met the second assassin, who called himself E.G. Mine.

With those young girls so close, I didn't waste any time. I shot off his armor and severed the strings he used to wield his weapons. Then I knocked him out with my duffel bag.

I'm sure the mind-speaker, Legato Bluesummers, was nearby. I shouted a challenge, that from now on he was the hunted. I was angry, Rem, and probably not thinking as wisely as I ought.

They killed a man I tried to let go free. They came after me when I only had one functional arm. If they'd treat me and their comrade that badly, I don't like to think what they'd do to others.

I was also angry that they put those kindhearted young girls into danger. With only one arm, I cannot protect them as well. I'd rather die than see either of them hurt.

I will try again to lose the young girls. They should not be entangled in a mess like this.

I hope my impulsive challenge gave the mind-speaker pause.

I miss you, Rem. I wonder if you would have wisdom to share about this situation. Sadly, there is no way I can learn it, if you do.

- "Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

Author's note: _This is a place where the chronology of the anime differs from the sequence in which things appear in the manga. As stated previously, I'm trying to blend the two, but will favor the manga when there's a conflict. I'll get to those other anime episodes after the manga introduces Wolfwood._ :)


	12. Priest?

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Priest?**

Dear Rem,

I met someone today. He's different from anyone else I ever recall meeting.

While riding a bus with the kindhearted young insurance girls, I saw something afar off on the sands. I called their attention to it, and they made a fuss and stopped the bus.

It turned out to be a man with a huge cross. The buckles that strapped a wrapping onto the cross had caught the sunlight, and that is what I'd seen. He was nearly dead of dehydration when we found him.

Seeing the poor fellow in that condition made my heart ache for him. They gave him my canteen, and he drank all my water. I made a protest, because I knew that would be expected.

However, in truth, I was glad to see him recovering. I could bear being thirsty. It was a small sacrifice, to help him live.

He says he's a traveling clergyman. Oddly enough, he doesn't look, carry himself, or smell like any other clergyman I've ever seen. In fact, he moves like a fighter. It's uncannily like looking in a mirror, at times, when I see the way he moves.

He looks nothing like me, though, except that we're nearly the same height. His hair is dark instead of blonde, his eyes are deep blue instead of pale, his skin is more swarthy or tanned, and he's moderately more solid-looking where I'm somewhat more lean.

I thought about introducing myself to him using a long silly name, but I knew that wouldn't wash the instant he got a good look at me. He recognized me immediately. I could see it in his eyes. In fact, I had to clap my hand over his mouth to prevent him from announcing my name to everyone.

Thankfully, my reflexes are slightly faster than his. Sometimes being other than "standard issue" human has a few advantages.

I didn't want the others in the bus to panic. Most times, my evil reputation does more harm than good.

Though I wonder how he knew me so quickly. Was it really only the red coat and spiky hair, as he said? Or was there anything else going on?

This Wolfwood fellow is a clever, charming sort. He persuaded the bus driver to let him ride for a discount. He carries with him a "portable confessional" that looks like a chapel, except it's a hat or mask that covers one's head and face.

He could tell when I smiled from my heart, and when I didn't.

I often smile to be friendly or encouraging. I don't do it to be deceitful. I may be aching for someone else's pain, or else trying to cheer them up even though I don't feel very cheerful myself just then.

Though I may need to live in pain, it is not something I wish to inflict upon others. I wish them joy. I wish them health and healing. I wish them love. I wish them peace.

Because I love them, I want them to have all the good things it seems doomed that I shall never have. So no matter how much I'm hurting, I try to help them find the joy, health, healing, love and peace that I cannot enjoy myself. If that means I should smile when I feel like crying, then that's what it means.

Wolfwood says his church is also an orphanage. I saw how he is quick to notice children and be kind to them. So that part about the orphanage might be true.

He's so slick a salesman, though, that I have my doubts about some of his other claims.

I suppose time will tell.

I'll watch how he behaves around the kindhearted young insurance girls. That should tell me a great deal about what manner of man he is.

I love him because he's human, a child of your sacrifice and therefore my little brother by adoption. Yet I also find that I'm beginning to like him for himself.

I miss you, Rem. I wonder if you'd like Wolfwood this quickly, too.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	13. Peril

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Peril**

Dear Rem,

I think I closed the last letter too soon. The next time the bus stopped to let everyone stretch a little, something happened.

One of the passengers began howling with an injured shoulder, and I recognized the injury type. I didn't know how the poor man had come by that injury, but I knew nothing mortal had inflicted it. I said so, but I don't think anybody believed me.

People were inclined to blame me. Even those kind-hearted young insurance girls were pointing weapons at me. I should have known better than to hope... ah well, it doesn't really matter. I know better now.

One of the security bots appeared from behind a sand dune. Its sudden appearance startled everyone. I knew there had to be one somewhere nearby, but I'd not known where. My revolver seemed to jump into my hand, and I fired at the mechanical menace.

Milly, one of the young insurance girls, also fired her x-shaped stun flechettes at it. That knocked it back. Her action seemed to make a strongly favorable impression on Wolfwood, too.

Unfortunately, it was not the only bot out there. The other bots quickly drove everyone back into the bus. The bus pulled away, and we thought at first we'd made a clean escape.

I was kneeling by the injured man, looking for ways to help him. It appeared to be only a shoulder injury, and not bleeding badly. He would be fine. He needed some bandages after the wound was cleaned.

We'd all begun to catch our breaths. We thought we were safely away. Then a mother shrieked, realizing that one of her children was missing from the bus.

The instant I heard that, my heart clenched in fear. That poor dear child! I had to help. I wouldn't risk the other passengers, but I would go after the child.

I told the young insurance girls to look after the injured man as I ran. I jumped off the bus. Only after landing did I realize that Wolfwood had also jumped off the bus. He was unarmed, however. I threw him a knife, so he'd at least have something.

I believe him when he said he would go try to help the child even with his bare hands. He acts like children are almost as precious to him as they are to me. There's something refreshingly comforting in that, especially from a young man whose movements don't exactly scream "civilian" to my instincts.

I tried to explain how the bots work, but Wolfwood was too impatient. He broke my knife, which I'd kept since I was on the ship. I suppose that over a century of service is a good run for a knife. I'll miss it a little, though.

I let him distract the bots, since he'd already run into danger. I shot the bots as quickly as I could, so that he wouldn't get hurt. Then he threw a knife to stop the only one I hadn't shot thoroughly enough. Given how many there were, and that the one I hadn't fully disabled was behind me, I don't think I did too badly.

I saw the child first, and ran toward her. I shot at every security bot I saw as I ran. He quickly followed. When we had nearly reached her, we fell into a sand trap that was a funnel into a buried ship.

There were many more security bots inside. We had to run, hide, fight... it was a tense, difficult time. We both had to work hard, so we were very tired by the time the place was finally safe.

I turned off the ship's computer, so it wouldn't make any more security bots or send them after anyone else.

In the process, I learned that my assessment of his body movements is accurate. When I loaned him my revolver, I ignored his claim that he didn't know how to fire one. He proved himself an excellent marksman, which helped us both to survive.

He also prayed, so maybe he really does have some kind of a background in religion.

We'd have fewer bruises if the young insurance girls hadn't chosen to break into the ship right over our heads. The rubble they knocked down on us is responsible for most of our cuts and bruises.

I'm not sure what to think about this Wolfwood. He's just not like anybody else. Yes, he's another child of this planet. He's unusually capable, yet he shows no interest in harming others.

A capable fighter, more inclined to defend than attack... in such a one, I might find a friend. It would be so very nice to have a friend. It could be especially nice if that friend was someone who could understand, at least a little, why I have spent so many years honing fighting skills.

But I make no expectations. He's likely to grow into his potential better without being too tightly associated with me, anyhow. He says he travels to earn for his orphanage. Most likely, he will travel in a different direction from me.

I can think of nothing new learned today, except that I want to watch Wolfwood. He's a puzzle that I'd like to understand better.

However, he has already gone away. For that reason, he is a mystery I may never solve.

Almost I begin to miss him, this maybe-friend that I barely know. For his sake, I hope the path he travels is bright with promise, health and happiness.

I miss you, Rem.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	14. Contest

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Contest**

Dear Rem,

We found ourselves in a town that seemed very peaceful, so I put off running away from the young girls.

I know; I should not procrastinate. Not on something this important. However, even though they are afraid of me, their company is mostly pleasant. It's only unpleasant when Meryl really loses her temper and starts hitting me a lot.

It's just so difficult to contemplate being entirely alone again.

If I sensed an assassin near, I'd be gone so fast the only proof I'd been there would be the dust settling behind me. So far, there haven't been any more. Maybe they lost track of where I am. I hope so, but I can't count on that lasting.

I played with children, instead of running. It was so calming, so pleasant.

Well, it was pleasant except for the daily lectures from Meryl. Maybe I can do her future children a favor and help her to mellow out a little. She's so young, and small. I think she sometimes overcompensates by being too feisty.

Anyhow, here in the town, one boy pulled away and stopped playing with the other children. So I visited his family's restaurant to see what was happening. To my surprise, I met Wolfwood there.

The family was in a desperate situation. Wolfwood's idea of a solution was to sign me up for a quick-draw contest. At first, I protested. However, he had a point. The prize money did seem like the easiest way to help them out of their difficulties. Eventually, I agreed.

Meryl was furious. She had a few choice words, and a few choice insults, to offer on the subject. But then she overheard Wolfwood and I talking, and she decided to "turn a blind eye" toward this activity since it was for a good cause.

I had too much to drink the prior night, so I arrived at the contest sick. I'll need to be careful about drinking with Wolfwood. He likes strong drinks that upset my metabolism very quickly. I don't know how he can manage to take in so much and not get sick.

Anyway, the contest began. I kept hitting all the stationary targets by accident, so I quickly moved up past that elimination round. I hadn't meant to stand out that much. I'd wanted to win for the family, but only by a very narrow margin.

However, I did get even with Wolfwood for signing me up without asking. I signed him up, too. After all, two people trying to earn the prize money for the same family would double our chances, right?

He was annoyed with me at first, but he couldn't argue against that logic. I figured turn-about was fair play. He deserved that, after trying to get me drunk the night before!

Besides, I already knew he could handle a gun - and hit his intended targets. He might stand as good a chance of winning as I did. I might even miss a few times to help him out. Maybe. On the other hand, I wouldn't want him to grow arrogant, so maybe I wouldn't miss targets just for him.

Oh, sometimes that boy does make me chuckle. I'm careful to do that when he's not around, though, so I don't hurt his feelings.

Whether I won or Wolfwood did, the family would win. That was the most important thing.

Well, until I learned that the contest would include shooting _at people_. I wasn't happy to learn that. Wolfwood knew, which might be the reason he signed me up instead of himself in the first place. That young rascal... oooh, some day he would pay for that!

I wanted to back out, but Wolfwood wouldn't let me. So I picked up an assortment of pebbles, and threw them to adjust bullet trajectories. The result was no fatalities in the duels where people were shooting at each other.

Eventually, the only finalists were Wolfwood and myself. He said he would bow out, so I could win the prize and give the money to the desperate family. I was feeling better about it, since nobody had been killed or too badly injured.

Unfortunately, those who were oppressing the family were unwilling to let the problem be resolved so easily. They captured the family, and forced Wolfwood to continue.

It took some fancy footwork and skillful gunplay. However, Wolfwood and I managed to rescue the family anyway.

It felt so good to see the family reunited, and so very happy together!

Though it was a long day, it was a good day.

I wish you could have been there, Rem. I wish it because I miss you, and also because I wonder what you would think of this charming young rogue named Wolfwood.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	15. Contract

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Contract**

Dear Rem,

Caravans are the lifeblood of No Man's Land.

All residents know this. Caravans are how food, clothing, and every other needful supply travels from one place to another. If a caravan stops moving for longer than a storm stopover, people die.

This is what makes it so difficult to deal with a corrupt caravan. And that is why unscrupulous people will use caravans to do terrible things.

I knew the caravan was corrupt. I knew they were involved in the slave trade, of selling unwilling girls and women to cruel lechers and perverts. I hoped that, this time, I would find a way to stop the corruption without causing any deaths. I even had an idea how it might be accomplished.

So I put on my red coat, spiked my hair, and wore my sunglasses. I looked as much like my wanted poster as I possibly could. I schooled my face to reflect an expression that might match my evil reputation. In the shade, with my sunglasses on, none were likely to notice any sorrow or compassion that might show in my eyes. I sat where I could easily be found.

I waited.

It wasn't the worst wait I have ever endured. They came, as I had expected. They asked if I was "Vash the Stampede." I nodded, and was asked into a tent for a job offer.

I already knew what they would ask me to do.

A girl, scheduled to be sold, was trying to run away. She was accompanied by a boy who had been used his whole life. They were merely two children, entangled in the web of corruption and desperate to escape. I came hoping to help them do exactly that.

"Stop them," my would-be employer said. The implications could be read many different ways. I knew it was meant to be a contract for a kill. I named a price that initially made the man flinch. However, eventually, he chose to pay it.

Milly was away. She'd gone shopping and had not yet returned. Meryl saw me get into a jeep and jumped into the passenger seat. She peppered me with questions, but I said nothing while we were near enough to the caravan people to be overheard.

Finally, briefly, I told her what they wanted. I told her I had accepted the job.

She held one of her derringers to my head. For a moment, I thought she might shoot me. Thankfully, she's not a cold-blooded killer. I was fairly certain of that, else I'd not have permitted her to ride with me. My plan required her assistance.

"All right," she said grumpily. "Why don't you tell me..."

I did.

The plan worked to perfection. I accomplished what I set out to do, at least with respect to those two children. I hope it may end the slave trade in this caravan, too.

Milly didn't catch on quickly enough. She came and punched me in the face, hard. I'm still holding ice on that. Bless her, she didn't like how things looked.

I didn't like how things _looked_ either, but it was the only way to make them _really_ turn out well.

Somehow, Wolfwood was also there. He did figure it out, and shot me with one of my own rubber bullets from almost point-blank range. They sting pretty badly up close like that.

I don't like acting a lie. It's uncomfortable, and it takes a lot of work. But anything, anything at all, is worth the effort if it saves a life. Nothing is more precious than that.

I had to empty myself of all emotion to play the part adequately. I buried everything so deeply that I could feel nothing.

I still feel a dull, aching emptiness where my feelings have not all resurfaced. I cannot imagine having to live like that all the time... trying to live with no love in my heart. I can't understand why anyone would choose to live that way. It hurts worse than when people don't love me back.

I miss you, Rem. Maybe if you had lived to influence more people, situations like this wouldn't happen. Perhaps, then, such extreme measures would be unnecessary.

Or maybe I'm just daydreaming. Perhaps I love you so much that I cannot imagine anyone else loving you less.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

_Fun fact for the day_: "Moore" _is an anagram of_ "Romeo."


	16. Cyclops

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Cyclops**

Dear Rem,

Our bus reached Juneora Rock. Wolfwood left us, bidding us go with God's grace. The girls and I waved him farewell, and even they said that they found him unusual.

Milly sounded a little wistful. Well, he is a handsome young rascal. Perhaps he was growing on her a little. I'd have to watch them closely, if the young preacher walks into our lives again. I don't want her to get hurt.

But something was wrong, here. I could feel it. After a few minutes, I realized with dread clutching at my heart that I knew the feeling of the "wrongness" ... it was that mind-speaking servant of _his_. Legato was there.

I ran from the girls, beating on doors, needing to know if what I sensed was true or if I was losing my mind. One resident did open her door briefly, but she panicked when I described Legato and slammed her door on my finger.

Meryl scolded me as she bandaged it. In the normal course of events, yes... pushing open someone's door would be rude. I was so worried for them, the townsfolk and the young insurance girls, that I forgot to be polite. It seemed less important at that time.

I had to find him. I had to protect them. I couldn't let someone like him harm them. There must be a way to reason with him, or turn his venom against me and not against innocents.

I needed to get away from those children, no matter how tenaciously they wished to do their job of trailing me. Being near me put them in danger. I should have been stronger, and left them before now.

Unfortunately, there's no way to turn back time. I could only do the best I could with the situation as it was.

Then I sensed something, perhaps Legato, perhaps something else... I ran from the girls again, to find it before it found them.

There were dead nearby; I could feel it. Many people had died. It tore at my heart. I had to stop it, or at least try to stop it, before anyone else was killed.

Suddenly a woman stood beside me. She mocked me for being careless, saying she could have killed me. Suddenly three of the snap-heads from my coat, around my throat and shoulders, fell off and landed with a clatter on the ground at my feet.

There was blood all around, and she said she had done some "spring cleaning" to destroy slavers and flesh merchants. While I agree that such things must be stopped, I cannot agree with slaughtering them. I tried to express that, hoping she might begin to understand.

All life is precious, including the lives of the ones who harm others. This included her life, also. They need an opportunity to change, and they can't have that if they're dead.

I also provided an object lesson to her, by tearing off some of the buttons on her shirt. I said I could have groped her five times. I could have, but I hadn't. I don't stoop that low.

As she clutched at her shirt, I asked her to take me to Legato. I could feel him nearby. I didn't want to hurt her. I only wanted to make her think. I hoped I had done that, and there would be no need to fight her.

As usual with such hopes, I was disappointed. I regret that battle with her could not be avoided. The price was too high.

She mocked my skills as a gunman, which I mostly ignored. I knew she was trying to bait me, to make me angry and careless. I couldn't afford to do that, since she admitted she worked for Legato.

Were my reflexes even slightly less, I could not have dodged her attacks long enough to survive. She had a method of appearing to teleport herself from one place to another. There were some close calls, until I figured out how to counter her trick.

I canceled out her illusion of speed, so she knew she could not defeat me. I pointed out that she couldn't fight anymore. I suspected that Legato would come after her, to kill her, since that was what had happened to his prior servant.

I meant to offer her a way out, but she did not stay to listen to me.

That is when the tragedy occurred... before I could stop her, she threw herself off the tower. The ground was too far below, and she died when she struck it.

I should have found a way to spare her. I shall regret this as long as I live. That poor girl should not have needed to die.

I keep going over it in my mind. I cannot find any thing I could have done to prevent her death except, perhaps, dying myself. She became just another young life that was wasted in _his_ service.

Sadly, whether they know it or not, those who serve Legato are serving _him_. And _he_ is entirely without mercy.

Those young insurance girls rented rooms for themselves and me. I do need to recover a little, since I was injured in fighting Legato's henchwoman. After this, I really must part from them. I can't bear the thought that they might be harmed because of me.

I miss you so much, Rem. Maybe you could have helped me find a way to spare that poor girl who was entangled by Legato. Unfortunately, all I can do now is mourn her.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	17. Moonstrike

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Moonstrike**

Dear Rem,

I am still recovering from my battle with the female assassin. I was sleeping, when suddenly I sat bolt upright as if waking from a nightmare.

Unfortunately, this was no nightmare. Waking did not end it.

I can only imagine that this would cause you as much pain as it does me. I felt _him_ wake, and knew that he would harm others. His malevolence only seems to grow as the years pass.

_He_ was close. In fact, he was right there in the same town where we were. I could feel it.

The girls, Meryl and Milly, those young insurance girls, they were there with me. That was far too close! If I fought _him_, while they were right there, so close... I had to persuade them to go, far, and immediately.

I started trying to warn them, to tell them to flee. They ignored my words.

Meryl said that I could barely stand, and she wasn't allowing me go anywhere. Then she struck me, hard. She carries a strong punch, for such a tiny girl. Then, much to my surprise, she started to cry.

There was no time to learn why. People in the town could feel that something was badly wrong, and they were panicking. I dared not wait: too many could be hurt if I wasn't quick enough to protect them.

I know you'd understand how it hurts to see someone you care about hurting. I remember well how you stayed with me, after I learned about Tessla. That's how I feel, and what I want to do, every time I meet someone who's hurting, body or soul.

If we weren't brothers and sisters before, we became so when your sacrifice allowed us all to live on this world.

I remember thinking of you, and how much everyone here meant to you, as I yelled at the insurance girls again. I used their names, for the first time.

I had not called either of them by name previously. I was doing my best to maintain some distance, so that it would be easier on them when the inevitable day came that we must part. I had hoped to do that more gently.

But there was no time. He was awake, and it would not be long before he began doing something to harm the people nearby.

I told them I feared that the same thing would happen here and now as had happened in July. I can't remember what happened, but I know _he_ was there and that we were fighting.

I begged them to go, to escape, to get far away. Then I left them. Thankfully, they did not follow me. I hope they got away.

I pushed my way through crowds of panicked people, all of whom were desperate to leave. That was good. I hoped they would have time to get far enough away. I didn't want any of them to get hurt.

Then I saw _him_. Knives. My twin brother... my sworn enemy. It hurt to see him, and it hurt to feel his burning hatred of humanity. I had to stop him. It might kill me, but I had to try. They deserve to live, and he would deny them that.

He had some of his servants around him. He was hurting one of them when I saw him. I drew my revolver, my eyes only on him.

I yelled at him, distracting him from harming his servant any further. I didn't even look to see who it was. I approached him, desperately hoping that I could do what needed doing... whatever that might prove to be.

He mocked my scars, and he mocked me. He said my arm had a different purpose than wielding a gun. Then I began to feel strange. Something was vibrating inside of me as Knives walked closer to me.

He said something about how I had tried to erase him with my "angel arm." I was confused, and it probably showed. He somehow knew, in that moment, that my memory of July was gone.

Then he raised his hand and put it over my face.

I remember screaming, but most of what came after is gone. Little flashes, less than a second each, are all jumbled inside my mind. I think I shot through my own leg to hit his, so he would let go of me, but I don't recall how he was behind me instead of in front. Flickering images of trying to wrestle free from him, of screaming and crying, of my arm metamorphosing into some kind of cannon...

Then nothing.

I awoke alone, with indescribable pain burning throughout my whole body. I was staring up at the sky, and I saw the fifth moon. It had a huge crater in it that had not been there before.

I slowly wrestled myself to my feet. My right thigh has a bullet wound, which makes walking more difficult. I began to limp unsteadily down the rock. That rock was shorter than it had been. I picked my way through the rubble of the town, and found some ragged cloth to use like a blanket. I wrapped around me against the chill of the desert night.

The cloth will conceal my leather-like body armor, and my missing arm. It will help me to be seen as nothing more than another lost soul, wandering through this world. It will help me to become lost without a trace.

Wrapped in the cloth, I limped out into the desert. That is where I am now.

I fear I have failed. I can feel Knives in the back of my mind, more subdued than earlier, but still there. I must get away, so he cannot use my body to do any more harm.

I feel strangely emptied. Every movement hurts; every breath hurts. My right thigh hurts, where a bullet passed through it.

I may never know exactly what happened. I only know that I cannot let it happen again.

I am looking at the sand, not the sky. I have no idea what direction I am going. I don't want to know. I just need to ignore this terrible pain, and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

I must get lost, or perhaps die. Any price is worth paying, if it will prevent Knives from using me to harm others again.

I miss you, Rem. I wish I could have seen you one last time.

- Vash "the Stampede"

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note**: _This marks the end of the original "Trigun" manga. Hereafter the tale is continued in "Trigun Maximum" manga... and, of course, the anime episodes and movie._

_...to be continued..._


	18. Haven

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Haven**

Dear Rem,

I don't know how long I wandered in the desert. Eventually, I found myself in a town. I staggered in, and dropped myself onto the ground. I think I slept. I must have.

I woke to the sound of footsteps. I opened my eyes, looked up, and saw a painfully young little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten years old. Her little arms were stretched around a bag of food.

I was filthy, and I stank. I don't know what came over me. I really should have let her pass me by. I should have died there. But the food... it had been a long time since I'd eaten. A gust of wind blew the scent of freshly-baked bread to me. It smelled so good...

Somewhat to my own surprise, I found that I wanted to live. I'm nothing more than a monster; a killer who destroys cities and makes holes in the moon. I don't deserve to live.

But I still _want_ to live ... and by that, I do not mean that I want to exist. I want to _live_. I want it so badly that it hurts. I want it not only for myself, but also for others.

I must have called out to her. I don't recall deciding to speak. I don't even recall what, if anything, I said. I do recall being hungry, and how dry my mouth felt, and how good her bread smelled.

She suddenly stopped, even though she'd already walked past me without seeming to notice me. She turned around and looked at me, over her bag of groceries. Her eyes were so huge with surprise that they seemed to cover most of her small face.

I limped after her. She led me to her grandmother's house, where she also lived. Her grandmother insisted that I bathe. I staggered behind the house, and fell to my knees. I remember cursing my weakness. I was wrong to trouble these two gentle souls with myself, or with all the trouble that comes with me. I shouldn't have come to them.

The next thing I knew, the grandmother was helping me out of my clothes and into a very small tub. I managed to sit in the tub by folding my legs close to my body, and balancing myself carefully, so that I didn't fall over and spill both the water and myself out of it.

Sheryl, the grandmother, gasped when she saw my scars. I waited, expecting that she would run or scream or hit me with something, as others have done. But she didn't. She talked softly, and said that I could stay with them and be safe.

I think I will try that. When she asked, I told her my name is Eriks. I don't deserve to be called by the same name as the man you loved, Rem. So I picked the first thing that came to mind, something that sounded similar.

I will change my name and my lifestyle, and live quietly with these two. If possible, I will never leave them. I will protect them with my life. Maybe, if I'm only protecting two people, I can avoid harming anyone.

I miss you, Rem. I think you would like Sheryl and Lina. I'm sorry that you cannot meet them.

- Eriks, formerly known as "Vash the Stampede"


	19. Trouble

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Trouble**

Dear Rem,

I was blessed with nearly two years of living quietly. I treasured each day. I grew to love Lina and her grandmother, Sheryl, more and more as time passed. They were both kind enough to accept me into their lives. They even paid for me to get a new prosthetic arm.

Of course, they don't know that I'm not an ordinary human. But I don't want to be anything else, so I hope I'm not deceiving them too badly. I do chores, I walk with Lina when she goes to town, and I try to entertain them during long, quiet evenings.

Then something terrible happened. A bandit came to the town, and was claiming to be "Vash the Stampede." With the help of his followers, he began taking over the town.

I kept Sheryl and Lina away from him and his ruthless band of cutthroats. I closed my eyes and ears, trying to be "Eriks" and not slip into old habits. Here, I don't even have a gun that I can use to defend anyone. I tried not to think about the people who were being hurt and killed, though it made me cry myself to sleep every night. I muffled my sobs in my pillow, so I wouldn't disturb my new family.

I can't protect everyone. I tried that. Every time I step in, someone dies. I tried to just watch over these two dear girls, and keep them safe. I thought I could do that.

As usual, I was mistaken.

A day came when spunky little Lina would not avoid the cutthroats. One of them grabbed at her rear end, and she spun around and kicked him in the face.

I grabbed her and ran as fast as I could, ducking into a nearby saloon. Hopefully, we weren't seen going in. Lina was friends with the barkeeper, so there was a chance he would hide her.

I began to look around the bar, and a cold hand of fear gripped my heart. There, at the end of the bar, sat Wolfwood. He had his huge cross with him. I would have recognized that, even if I didn't recognize the man. He was eating lunch.

I did my best to ignore him, as Lina asked the bartender for help to hide. I had allowed my hair to grow out to shoulder-length, so it wasn't spiked anymore and it partly hid my face. I wore clear glasses. I was dressed in an ordinary shirt and pants. Maybe he wouldn't know me. I dared to hope so, anyhow.

I tried to make light of the situation. I said Lina had over-reacted. I did _not_ say what I would have done to that man if it weren't imperative to get her away and hidden immediately...

Lina kicked me for saying she'd over-reacted. I deserved it. I pretended that it hurt worse than it did, while she told everyone what had happened.

Then what I'd feared began. The pedophile she kicked blew a hole in the side of the tavern. He demanded that Lina be turned over to him.

I couldn't let that happen. Not Lina! And that cutthroat was followed by more of his gang, including the man in the red coat that claimed to be... who I was.

I feared I might have to become "the Stampede" again.

I quickly pulled Lina behind the counter, but someone had seen us go in there. The cutthroat demanded that she be sent out, or else he would kill the townsman who informed him where to find her.

I couldn't stay still and let someone die. It was my mistake, my own failure to keep Lina away from trouble. There had to be something I could do... maybe if I went out instead, and begged for her, would they relent? It was worth a try.

I walked out, my hands held up in a signal of surrender. I pleaded with them for Lina, getting on my hands and knees, and bowing my head to the ground.

The red-coated false Stampede said she could go if I stripped naked and acted like a dog. I called over my shoulder to Lina that she should stay inside. Then I started stripping.

There were some gasps and mutters as they saw my scars. I ignored that as best I could. Everyone watched, mostly quietly, as I finished stripping myself naked. Then I did my best impersonation of a dog.

It was embarrassing, but if it saved lives... no price is too high. I was worried that they wouldn't keep their promise, but I still had to try my best. I kept my back to the bar, where Lina and Wolfwood were.

The gang's leader made a face, and then told his followers to move out. I covered myself as best I could with my hands, while they turned their vehicles and began to move out. Just as I was thinking I could probably pick up my clothes again, a shot rang out.

He broke his word, and shot me. Everything went dark.

I woke when Wolfwood punched me in the face. I found myself in the clinic, again. I asked the doctor to give us a few minutes, since I really didn't want Wolfwood telling them who I had been.

He scolded me, and gave me back my gun. I'm not even sure where I lost it. Then he told me that the gang had Lina.

Thankfully, someone had brought my clothes to the clinic. I dove into them, and we went to where the gang had my little friend.

I asked Wolfwood not to kill anyone, and he accused me of kidding around. I reminded him of the Scripture, that killing is forbidden. I asked what kind of a clergyman he was. Then the men who had Lina began firing on us.

We quickly disabled most of the gang, except for the leader who held Lina. He held a gun to her head and demanded that I say "his" name. Wolfwood started laughing so hard he was entirely helpless, rolling on the ground and growing weak from mirth.

I tried to evade that, since somehow it was more embarrassing than anything else that had happened today. Call another man by my own name? I can't describe how difficult that was. But he had Lina. So I forced myself to do it.

He wasn't satisfied. He demanded that I say it louder. He still had Lina, so I did as he asked. The next thing he did was command me to drop my gun. I did that, too.

He boasted that because he was "Vash the Stampede" he could shoot me through the heart before my gun hit the ground.

Well, enough was enough. I wasn't getting Lina freed by kowtowing to this man's demands. I ducked and caught my revolver, and then shot his shoulder. He screamed and released Lina.

I couldn't help remarking on the strange coincidence that he and I seem to have the same name. However, I'm about six times faster.

Lina ran to me. Even after two years of growing, she's barely tall enough to stretch her little arms around my waist.

When we returned to town, we informed the townsfolk of all the injured we had left behind. Then we took Lina home.

Sheryl fed us, and Wolfwood told me that Knives is killing towns. I cannot stay here any longer. If he were to find me here, I dread to think what would befall these townspeople. He would convert this place into a sea of blood.

No, I must leave and hope to lead that danger far away from here. I don't like it. I would much prefer to continue living quietly. Unfortunately, there is no other choice that protects them. I couldn't bear for them to be hurt or killed because of me.

I told Sheryl I was leaving. Lina returned with the groceries just then, and she didn't take the news well. She kicked me quite hard, poor dear. Then she shut herself into her room.

Two of the gang had escaped, when Wolfwood and I disabled the others on the way to rescuing Lina. They came to the house, and had to be dealt with. In a moment of clumsiness during that battle, I hit my own head on the eaves of Sheryl's house. Sadly, there is no time to repair the damage. I hope it won't prove too costly to fix that.

Lina cut my hair for me. It's best, when I'm in constant danger, for it to be short enough to stay out of my eyes. Though there was no physical pain, it felt like she was cutting away all of the time we had spent together. That hurt, but there was no help for it. All the memories of the last two years played through my mind, as my severed hair fell to the ground.

When Lina had finished to her satisfaction, she wrapped herself in the sheet that had caught my hair, and started crying. I hugged her while she cried, and tried to comfort her with soft words. When she stopped, I thanked them for all they had done for me.

I smiled for them as I walked away, but my heart was heavy. I didn't really want to leave them. I hope they will be safe, now that I am no longer there to attract danger.

I hope that I shall see them again, one day, when a visit will not put them at risk.

I guess today's lesson is that I cannot hide. I must find a way to deal with Knives, to stop him from hurting and killing people. I don't know yet how I will accomplish this, but I must do all in my power to try.

I miss you, Rem. Yet, in a way, I'm also glad that Knives cannot hurt you anymore.

- Vash "the Stampede," formerly known as "Eriks"


	20. Anonymity Ends

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**Anonymity Ends**

Dear Rem,

The "excitement" today didn't last long, but it did put me in the hospital again.

Oh, don't worry. I'll recover. It's just a few more scars. I already have so many that these will hardly be noticed.

It started when I saw someone who looked far too military getting off a bus, as I sat in the window of the hotel room where I was staying. I had a bad feeling about that. The feeling grew worse when I saw him enter my hotel.

Soon there was a knock at my door. I could see he had a weapon drawn when I looked through the peep-hole. So I tied a string to the door handle, and spoke to him from behind the wall.

He claimed to be from the same insurance company as the young girls who'd followed me until Juneora Rock. He even claimed to have a message from Meryl.

I wonder why he picked her name, instead of Milly's? Perhaps he wanted to impress me? Milly does tend to call Meryl by a title indicating she is of greater rank, instead of calling her by name.

Anyhow, I finally used the string to open the door, and caught the man's weapon with my other hand. Sure enough, he'd started shooting. I told him he shouldn't knock on the door so loudly.

Other people started calling out, asking what was going on. I warned them to stay back, as the man drew another weapon and tried again to shoot me. I dodged, moving farther back into my room, and he threw grenades.

I did the only thing I could do. I dove out the window.

I wasn't quite fast enough to avoid injury, but at least the explosion didn't kill me. I landed in a car, halfway on top of a very surprised lady.

My attacker came to the opening in the hotel room, aiming another weapon. I begged him to stop, trying to cover the lady in the car with my body, to offer what little protection that would provide for her. She didn't deserve to be hurt simply for being in the wrong place at a bad time. That poor lady... I think she's ok, though.

My attacker fired anyway, but, apparently, his aim was off. Then Wolfwood came and made him stop. I'm not sure what he did, but the gunshots ceased.

I told Wolfwood he was an insurance guy, but Wolfwood called him a hit man. I don't know what to think. I'm only glad that nobody else was hurt.

I heard that my attacker is also coming to this hospital. Wolfwood expected the man to be put into jail, but staff members said his face was injured so he was coming here. Wolfwood got a very strange expression on his face, but I was unable to follow him to see what he was up to. I hope he won't do anything too bad...

I'm not sure what lesson I could learn from today's events. I was careful, I didn't trust him, but still people got hurt... even if it was only me and my attacker. Thankfully, we should both recover. The hospital here is adequate.

I can't think of any way I could have done things differently to have prevented him from being hurt. I'll try to think about it some more after I rest a little...

I miss you, Rem.

- Vash "the Stampede"


	21. Badlands

_I do not own Vash the Stampede, Rem Saverem, Meryl Stryfe, Milly Thompson, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, etc: they all belong to the incomparable Yasuhiro Nightow._

_It occurs to me that Vash -might- compose letters in his mind as the way that he re-examines his day, unwinds, and learns any lessons he can from it._

_As the various "Unwritten Letters" accumulate, there will be spoilers._

**NOTE**: _This "letter" contains major spoilers for the movie_, Trigun: Badlands Rumble. _The movie is currently available to watch for free on the "hulu" website, but I don't know how long that will last. "Currently" = when this chapter was published. How do I know? I just watched it again from there to verify details..._

_If you have not yet seen the movie, and wish to preserve surprises, stop reading __**now**__. I'm not kidding. You have been warned!_

.

.

**Badlands**

Dear Rem,

It's been an exceptionally busy few days. I shall try to be more detailed than usual, in part to help myself remember and think things through.

This is going to be a long letter.

I guess Wolfwood thought I was taking too long to recover at the hospital, after the encounter with the hit man. He left to tend some business of his own. I expect, in time, he would have returned.

However, I also had personal business that needed tending. I heard a rumor that someone whose life I'd saved, twenty years ago, has resurfaced. Rumors claimed he meant to get revenge on others who'd wronged him. Unfortunately, Gasback isn't the type to be satisfied with anything less than the death of his opponents.

I couldn't let that happen. So I started traveling toward where the man most likely to be targeted could be found. After visiting a place where I had some basic supplies (back-up coat, body armor, ammunition and a little money) stashed in case of emergency, I booked passage on a sand steamer.

While riding the steamer, my mind traveled back 20 years to the prior time I had encountered Gasback. He was robbing a bank, and I was among those taken hostage. I ducked under the counter, so I could evade notice while wriggling free of my bonds.

A dispute arose over a large, teardrop-shaped green gem pendant. The proper owner had been wearing it before the robbers arrived. One of the henchmen found it, and was going to quietly pocket it. However, Gasback saw him. He disliked things being done in a sneaky manner, so he deprived his henchman of the prize and kept it for himself.

Shortly after that, his henchmen tried to kill him. I did what was needful to prevent anyone from being killed. Gasback turned loose missiles that caused a great deal of property damage. Still, I was tremendously relieved that nobody died. Even better, nobody seemed to be seriously hurt, aside from Gasback losing the use of an eye.

The newspapers blamed me for being involved. The hostages apparently forgot that I had been among them. It seems they thought I was working with Gasback all along. Oh well, there's not much I can do about it now. Wasn't much I could do about it then, either.

The former henchmen left Gasback as planned, except that their former leader had survived. They went off and made themselves rich, partly from their ill-gotten gains.

Gasback himself had vanished, until now. I feared, if rumors were anything close to accurate, that he'd spent most of his time plotting revenge.

So I was on a sand steamer, heading toward where he might be expected to turn up. Rumors of that being his intended destination had drawn the attention of many bounty hunters, so I made some efforts to be unobtrusive.

I didn't need them coming after me, since they tend to be careless and innocent bystanders could get hurt. I couldn't count on all of them knowing that the bounty on my head has been repealed.

I would imagine that there must be some honorable, well-mannered bounty hunters somewhere on No Man's Land. However, I have yet to meet any.

When the hunters discovered a pretty young girl riding the steamer, I knew that was likely to get dangerous for her. So I began preparing. I hoped I was mistaken, but I wasn't holding my breath. I've seen this type of thing too many times over the decades to believe it would work out by itself, without a nudge or two to send circumstances in the right direction.

Sure enough, they had evil intent toward the poor girl. She was perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. That would make her about the same age as those young insurance girls who used to follow me around. She's spunky, and would probably have done fine if she only had one opponent. Unfortunately for her, there were two of them.

So I distracted the hunters into hitting me, instead of assaulting her. I even managed to tie up the two most violent into a tarp, so they couldn't hurt anyone. Since firing a weapon is against the rules on a sand steamer, and they had done this, they were kicked off.

That day, I was reminded how important it is not to let myself sleep too deeply in public.

We arrived at our destination without further mishap. However, after that incident, I took opportunity to observe the girl who'd been targeted by those ill-mannered bounty hunters.

She wore a large green teardrop-shaped gem as a pendant, and her hair is the same shade of auburn that Gasback's was when he was younger. That suggested a few things to my mind, but I kept quiet while the steamer traveled. I just unobtrusively kept her in sight, in case she needed further assistance.

So when she got off at the town Gasback was rumored to be targeting, which tallied with my own information, I decided I'd best keep a close watch on her. I pretended to be smitten with her, and made a complete fool out of myself.

I didn't want her to get hurt, or to hurt herself. She had a look in her eye, and a smell of hostility that spiked at any reference to Gasback. I feared she would try to kill him, and then regret it for her whole life if she succeeded.

So I made a nuisance of myself, following her around, hoping to keep her out of trouble. I learned her name from the hotel's guest register, and pretended I was her companion so that I could be assigned to the same room.

She was surprised, and displeased, when I called her by name. I accepted the beating she gave me, and continued following her into a saloon.

It chanced to contain the two young insurance girls! Milly was happy to see me, but I can't say the same for Meryl. However, since their table had the only open seats, and Milly had invited us, Amelia and I joined them.

I was so pleased to see that the two of them were alive and well. I last saw them two years ago, under such dangerous circumstances that I was in doubt of their safety. It was a huge relief to see them both there, much the same as they had always been.

It wasn't long before Amelia was past tipsy and going fast toward drunk. Meryl was every bit as sharp-tongued as I remembered. Milly was as cheerful as ever.

Things went reasonably well until Meryl decided I was too dangerous and ought to leave town. Immediately. I protested that she ought not to cut our reunion so short.

Since I was sitting down eating, she was able to slip around the table and grab me by my ear. Using that convenient handle, she began dragging me toward the door. I whined loudly, but that didn't slow her down.

So I did the one thing that might actually stop her. I started to say my name loudly. She let go of my ear to cover my mouth with both hands, and then scolded me about the potential of panicking the town. Thinking she'd subdued me, she again grabbed my ear and started pulling me toward the door.

I couldn't protect these three young girls if I was separated from them. The presence of so many uncouth bounty hunters was already a threat to their safety. If Gasback came, it could grow even more dangerous. I didn't want any of these children hurt.

Not to mention that I didn't want Meryl to think she could control me so easily. Her reaction was likely to be amusing, if painful.

So I yelled my name, much louder than before.

There was a moment of silence in the saloon, while Meryl got a very strange expression on her face. It was all I could do to avoid laughing, she looked so shocked and dismayed! Then all of the other patrons erupted in laughter.

Amid their laughter were many mocking comments about how I must be a costume-player. Someone even said that I was so thin that I'd blow away on a strong breeze. In their loudly stated opinions, I couldn't possibly be a threat to anyone. They asked Meryl if she was babysitting me. They said I should work harder on my impersonation skills.

I struck an overly dramatic pose, and again claimed to be myself. Everyone laughed again.

Nobody except Meryl and Milly believed me, but they already knew.

I returned to the table, and my interrupted meal. Amelia didn't seem to respect me any more after hearing my name than she had previously. I don't think she believed it.

After a while, young Amelia stood and announced an intent to use the restroom. She wasn't exactly steady on her feet, since she'd been drinking so much. She almost immediately crossed paths with a man who wished to take advantage of her.

That's how I discovered she can kick pretty well even when half-drunk. The way she kicks reminds me of Lina. With Lina, I always knew how upset she was by how hard she kicked me. Amelia, though, she was just enough older that I had to be mindful of her dignity. I couldn't wrestle with her, or joke around with her, the way I could with Lina.

I began working my way toward the altercation, quietly slipping each gun out of its owner's holster, unloading it, and replacing it as I went. I succeeded in unloading all of the guns before anyone drew. Whew! That was a close one.

Someone saw me with my arms full of ammunition. Things got _really_ interesting for a short while there. Eventually, though, everything calmed down again. Meryl had passed out, so Milly carried her on her back. Amelia was so near to passing out that I managed to get her onto my back. Milly kept me company as far as our paths matched, and then she turned off to take Meryl to their hotel.

Alone with Amelia, I kept her attention with lighthearted conversation. Well, mostly lighthearted. There were a few times when I deliberately provoked her to hit me. I wanted to keep her awake enough that she wouldn't vomit on me while I carried her back to the hotel room.

I was not successful in getting her there without ... a mess. I got us cleaned up, though. Thankfully, she'd only messed up her coat and mine. I took her coat off her, and left her otherwise fully clothed when I laid her on her bed. Then I cleaned up both of our coats, and put mine back on.

I stayed up and ate a little, hoping that would reduce the likelihood I'd make a similar mess. I covered her up with her blankets before I arranged myself as comfortably as possible on a nearby chair. I was tired enough that it didn't take me long to fall asleep, uncomfortable as it was.

I think the lesson for that day was: do not run when someone on my back is so drunk that they're likely to throw up. I'd wanted to get to the hotel room faster, but that plan backfired in a big way. Ugh.

That night, Gasback robbed a factory in another town. So the next morning, when I was playing with the local children, I learned that Amelia and the insurance girls were ready to leave. If they left town, they should be safe enough. I needed to stay, though, since I knew that Gasback would eventually come here.

That Amelia girl, she's nobody's fool. She got suspicious as soon as I agreed that it was unlikely Gasback would come here, and expressed a forlorn hope that she and I might meet again someday. She said I was a bad actor, if you can believe that! I'd expected that she would be so happy to be rid of me that she wouldn't notice.

Ah well. It seems I have not yet gained any immunity to stupid mistakes.

Before any of the three girls could get out of town, Gasback himself arrived.

I needed to get between Gasback and the man he wanted to kill. I knew that Amelia and the insurance girls are neither stupid nor helpless. So as long as they didn't oppose Gasback directly, they should be all right long enough for me to stop him from killing.

What I hadn't counted on was finding Wolfwood among Gasback's men. I feared I might have to injure the young preacher, but I managed to avoid that by dropping rubble between us. He got around it, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to kill me.

Thankfully, it seems his bargain with Gasback was only to help the robber get through the gates. At that point, his obligation ceased. He stopped pointing his handgun at my head.

I lack words to adequately express my relief.

But the trouble wasn't over. I had to hurry after Gasback, or else someone would die.

I arrived in time to prevent him from killing his former henchman. However, Amelia had found her way to that room, also. I had to act quickly to prevent her from shooting Gasback.

Things got dicey, but nobody died. When Gasback called me by name, Amelia looked shocked. I guess that means she didn't believe me at the tavern the prior night, after all. I'm better at acting than at lying, though she hasn't known me long enough to realize that yet.

Gasback grumbled at me for interfering 20 years ago, and for interfering today. His former henchman got out of the window while he was scolding me. He left us to pursue the man.

Then I learned that Amelia can hit just as hard as Meryl. Hopefully, someday I will find a way to protect these girls without needing to annoy them so much. Some of those bruises can take a while to heal.

Amelia was angry with me for saving Gasback's life, 20 years ago. She hit me a few times, before getting it out of her system. She shouted at me that nothing could stop her from killing Gasback. Then she stomped off in a huff.

By that time Wolfwood had arrived, and added his own insults. He doesn't understand, either, how much I value every single life... even those that have wandered into evil paths. I told him it was my nature. I was too tired, and too depressed, to argue the point eloquently just then.

It wasn't over. I still needed to protect the girls, and to prevent Amelia from doing something she would surely regret after she cooled down.

Then another tragedy struck. Gasback stole the city's plant. He got the bulb down the hill and through the gates, and loaded it onto a cargo carrier. He drove away, with many bounty hunters and Amelia in pursuit.

I grabbed the first vehicle I could lay my hands on, and Wolfwood jumped in behind me. I had to protect the plant, and Amelia. Lives depended on it.

Even though I'm a very poor driver - and always have been - I somehow managed to catch up to the cargo carrier and get my vehicle between it and Amelia's jeep. She was so eager to shoot Gasback that she risked harm to the plant. I pleaded with her to stop, until a side opening in the cargo carrier allowed one of Gasback's men to shoot me.

I felt the impact, and was knocked off my vehicle. I fell into a sand sink, and for a time I knew no more.

I awoke as someone's Thomas was running over the sands where I lay. I caught its tail, and that helped me to get out from under the sand. It turned out that the bullet fired at me got lodged in some hard smoked Thomas meat, so I wasn't badly injured.

The shot had only knocked me off the vehicle. It also knocked the wind out of me long enough for me to get buried under the sand too deeply for Wolfwood and Amelia to find me. (I learned later that they had stopped pursuing Gasback to look for me. I was so touched that I cried. I had no idea that I mattered so much to them!)

My lesson for that day was to always keep some of that hard smoked Thomas with me. It's good for stopping bullets.

The next day, I had to hurry after Wolfwood and Amelia. They left early in the morning to retrieve the plant, and I knew better than they did that underestimating Gasback could be deadly.

I arrived just in time to prevent Gasback from killing Wolfwood. For some strange reason, Wolfwood didn't seem very happy to see me. He was wearing my sunglasses. Perhaps he liked them better than his own, and didn't like to give them back? I don't know. I would have let him keep them if he wished.

Wolfwood promised to beat me later. I have a feeling that he wasn't kidding, and that he can probably hit harder than Meryl and Amelia combined. Naturally, I'm hoping that he will forget to keep that promise!

I shot the arm of the man holding a gun on Amelia, so she was also safer than before I'd arrived.

Gasback was certainly not pleased to see me. He insisted we fight, though I tried to talk him out of it. When I could see that a gunfight was inevitable, I asked both Wolfwood and Amelia to allow that fight to be a duel. They reluctantly agreed.

I had to shoot Gasback in both his shoulder and his thigh, and very nearly shoot apart his weapon, before he even slowed down. Then he turned on a different function of his weapon: something electrical.

Before I could stop her, Amelia stood between Gasback and myself. She wasn't harmed by what he was trying to do, so I held still and let her do what she would. During the resulting conversation, I learned that Amelia's green gem and red hair were not a coincidence (as I'd suspected).

Amelia thought about shooting him. In the end, thankfully, she didn't. She even forgave me for sparing Gasback's life, 20 years ago. That is a good thing, especially since she's only nineteen.

As Wolfwood and I walked away from the town, the insurance girls rode by on their Thomases. They told us that there was no claim on the large bronze statue their company had insured. The statue's owner was a wanted criminal in disguise, operating under a false name. That negated the insurance contract. The girls were delighted.

All of Gasback's gang, both former and current, are now in the hands of the law. Gasback himself is also going to prison. Amelia collected the bounty for turning him in, and gave most of the money to the town. Nicholas had hoped for a bonus, but since he'd not written that into his contract when he agreed to assist her, he had no way to change her mind.

He says my wallet must pay the bills for both of us. I told him my wallet was running lean, and he talked about how far the bounty on my head would pay for his bills... I told him not to walk so close, and he complained that I was being cold.

I miss you, Rem. I know you would never turn me in, as Wolfwood threatens to do, no matter _what_ price was put on my head or how lean your wallet was.

- Vash "the Stampede"


End file.
